


Stripe Club

by palavreado



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palavreado/pseuds/palavreado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That is a martini."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stripe Club

**Author's Note:**

> Woo! Slash! Probably not going to be posting any of that again anytime soon.

“Crowley’s those girls seem awfully cold, maybe we should get them a sweater,” said Aziraphale, sipping on his wine glass. The waiter had added a pink umbrella and an orange slice to it. Aziraphale had thought it to be delightful; Crowley had snickered.

“Angel… I’m going to say this one last time… it’s a strip club. Women are scantily dressed _on purpose_.”

“Yeah, see, that’s another thing I don’t get. I haven’t seen any stripes anywhere. I thought they were out of fashion.”

“Not _stripe_ club. _Ssssssssstrip_ club. As in, you pay the scantily dressed women to have even _less_ clothing on.”

“That’s just silly, why would I do that?”

“So you can get laid.”

“…Oh,” realization finally began to dawn on the angel, his voice lowered to a whisper and he leaned in to speak to his demonic counterpart, “Crowley, why are we here?”

“Well, we just averted the end of the world and you are still a virgin. I took pity.”

“Well… well, I don’t want… this!”

“Oh, come on, loosen up a bit. It’s not like they’ll do anything worse than what they have in store for us.”

“You mean the hellish punishment for stopping the ineffable plan?”

“That’s the one.”

“Well… I mean, I don’t think I can… how does one even go about this?”

“Angel, I am not having the sex talk with you in the middle of a strip club. Whatever remains of my dignity won’t allow me.”

“No, I know how it works… biologically. I’m not stupid.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Aziraphale pointedly ignored that.

“I just… do I just go up to them and say ‘oh, hello, jolly good evening, isn’t it? I would like to lay with you’?”

“Not unless you want to be a public embarrassment. Just pick a lady and… on second thought, you’ll screw that up, too,” the demon gestured to a random stripper and pointed to Aziraphale. The girl gave him an inquisitive look, “he’s not gay,” Crowley responded immediately, to which the angel gave him an appalled stare and the woman just nodded. She took the angel’s hand and dragged him to one of the back rooms.

Crowley kicked back and had a toast with himself for a bad job well done, when thirty minutes later both the woman and the angel returned, not a hair out of place. Not even a dent in the angel’s vest. The girl seemed to have covered up quite a bit, too.

Crowley let the scene sink in very slowly before finally breaking from his stupor as Aziraphale kissed the lady on both cheeks and said goodbye, “What the actual fuck was that?”

“Language, dear.”

“What the actual… crud… happened? Oh, will you please spare my dignity!?”

“Well, we were sitting on the bed, and she was doing these atrocious things with her clothes, so I asked her what she was doing…”

“Oh, no.”

“She said something along the lines of stripping, and I asked her why, and she said she needed the money, so I asked her why…”

“No…”

“And the poor dear said she needed to support her children, so I asked her how they were, and she said ‘fine, thank you’ and that she really didn’t like this job. The men were all pigs…”

“Aziraphale…”

“Imagine that? Working at a job like this! And so I told her that maybe she should go find a more decent job, and I said Burger Lord’s was in need of a cashier, and that it wasn’t much but it sure beat this job, and I’m sure the wages there are fine…”

“Why?”

“And she could enroll into night school and get a proper education so she could help her children with the homework. Oh, they’re so lovely. She showed me pictures! Susie and little Mike. Beautiful, healthy kids that I’m sure have a very loving mother…”

“Aziraphale, shut up.”

“What, why?”

“What happened to the sex?”

“Evelyn didn’t really want to have sex.”

“Aziraphale, she was being paid. It doesn’t matter. You’re not even supposed to know her name!”

“Why in heavens not?”

“Because, you’re not supposed to! You’re not supposed to talk about feelings at a strip club! You’re not supposed to talk _at all_ during sex except maybe to scream names! Good grief, no wonder people think you’re gay. You get in bed with a lovely lady and you proceed to hug pillows and share feelings!”

“I didn’t hug any pillows… maybe…”

“Come on, we’re leaving,” Crowley tugged Aziraphale’s sleeve in a desperate attempt to escape the looks he was getting from the people around them.

“Wait, I didn’t finish the wine.”

“That’s not wine, Aziraphale, they don’t serve bloody _wine_ at a strip club. That is a martini.”

“…Oh. Well, I haven’t finished it.”

“I’m sure I can find some for you somewhere else, now come on, people are staring.”

“Alright, alright…” they made their way to the parking lot, Crowley’s grip still tight on the angel’s sleeve, “I still don’t understand what’s wrong with talking. I mean, I think it’s good to be open with your partner.”

Crowley’d patience had run to an end and Aziraphale was unceremoniously shoved against a wall, “Alright. You want to talk? Let’s talk. I think you’re the single most idiotic thing that’s ever stepped onto this beautiful planet Earth. I don’t care how intelligent you are or how many degrees you got on the bloody angel school for angels who actually bother attending fucking school,” there was a pause in his speech and Aziraphale’s face was suddenly full of Crowley, “but you are really, really stupid. I mean, over nine-fucking-thousand. Your level of stupidity passes that number. Your level of stupidity makes nine-thousand seem like a wittle baby number that just pissed itself by looking at your level of stupidity. You always ruin everything, you’re a terrible goody-goody, and you can manage to be just as much of a right bastard _at the same time_!” Another pause, more kissing, suddenly the need to breathe mechanically is something that’s disregarded.

“Oh, really? Well, _I’m_ not the one who’s a _full-time_ bastard! I’m the one ruining everything? In your dreams. I always try and do the right thing, and hey, look, here comes the demon Crowley with his wiles to sweep Aziraphale’s hard work under the rug! Here comes Crowley, with his stupid new-fangled electronics and his terrified plants to tempt the good out of people,” even more kissing, glasses which clacked uncomfortably against each other are removed, and someone (neither of them is sure who) is undoing buttons, “To ruin all of the Principality’s hard work. People make jokes about us, you know?”

A tie is thrown to the side, “Oh, how tragic. And my fellow demons don’t make jokes about me? Ooh, look at big, scary Crowley, kicked out of Heaven because he hung out with the wrong crowd, ooh. All the demon children cower in their beds as their mothers tell the tale of the terrifying _Crowley_ ,” a vest comes off.

“Wait, there are demon children?” Aziraphale stops fiddling with his (or is it Crowley’s) shirt.

“No, I was being sarcastic, can we please focus on this,” Crowley led Aziraphale’s hands back to his shirt (or was it Aziraphale’s) “and as I was saying, I’m a bloody joke around Hell. Not even killing Ligur gave me an ounce of respect down there, and now that we’ve averted the apocal-oops, I’m really pretty sure I’ll never get any, so I’m stuck. Up here. With you!” with a final yank, somebody’s shirt came off.

“Crowley.”

“What?” the demon mumbled against the angel’s lips.

“Is this the part where we get an actual room and have angry sex?”

“Oh, Manchester, _yes_.”


End file.
